A is For
by theprozacfairy
Summary: Alison catches Benny cheating. Again. She goes out searching for help and finds Mark. Close enough. Eventual MarkxAlison That's right, it's back!
1. Venting

Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters (duh).

A/N: I haven't written any RENT fiction in about five years. In fact until a couple weeks ago, I hadn't written any fanfiction at all in about five years. So, uh, sorry if it sucks.

* * *

She opened the door to his home office without warning. She would have heeded his secretary's warning had the woman been at her desk- but she seemed to have abandoned her post. While the image Alison was met with was positively detestable, she couldn't say it was too astonishing. Her husband had that little slut up on his desk.

Her vision went blurry, and before she fainted, Alison stormed out. Benny had seen her and paused. He quickly zipped up, abandoning the woman in his office to call after his wife. "Alison, wait! Honey! Let me explain!"

But she was too smart for that. Make that too wise. She'd fallen for it before and she wasn't going to fall for it again. First, it was the dancer, then the secretary (whom she made him replace with her 60-year-old former nanny), this time it was the intern in the Victoria's Secret suit. Who buys work clothes from a lingerie company anyway? Allison supposed she couldn't say much, though, as she'd never held a _real_ job in her life.

All she could think about was the whore she called a husband and that skinny little bitch. She was behind the wheel of her car and a block away before she realized she wasn't in the building anymore. She was crying. She knew she shouldn't drive right then, but she didn't know what to do. Where could she go? Home was out of the question, and this was a social nightmare. Most of her friends barely knew the definition of sympathy, much less were they able to feel it. Her best, and only real friend (barring her sister) was in Tuscany, and her sister was... well she wasn't stateside, that was for sure. It was too embarrassing to go to Daddy again. He'd just tell her to get a divorce like always. But she loved Benny! She couldn't explain it, but even though he hurt her so much, he was still _her_ Benjamin. He was so secure. Divorce simply would not suit her. Anyway, she was sure he could change. But maybe it was unfair if only he had to change. Yes, she could use some improvements to become more enticing to her husband, to give him more incentive to stick around. She just had to ensnare him again. Marriage is a two-way street, after all.

A goal, she had a goal. Now what to do about it. She still had no clue where she was headed. Or did she? It came to her! That little harlo- dancer. She'd know what to do. She could help her. She owed Alison, didn't she?

Alison pulled up to the building Mimi and the gang lived in. "What a dreadful place. Who in their right mind would choose to live here?" She asked herself looking at the run-down property. She knew these people didn't really have much of a choice, but still, couldn't Benny fix it up a bit?

When she reached the door she realized that not only did she not have any means of getting in the building, but that she didn't know where that flooz- Mimi (she had to get used to calling her that) lived. She knocked on the door, not expecting much. She got what she expected, no answer. After only a few minutes, though, a man walked up to the building and let himself in. She caught the door before it closed, following a ways behind clutching her pepper spray. After ascending a flight, he left the staircase and entered his "apartment".

She had no clue where th- Mimi lived, but she knew where someone who might know was. Five flights of stairs later, she reached the top. They need an elevator. She knocked on the loft door.

Mark was editing some footage. Well, he was supposed to be editing footage, but he was too burnt-out right now, and was really just staring at the editing equipment as though he expected it to do his job before him. A noise jolted him out of his vegetative state. Someone was knocking at the door. This was very strange for a few reasons: A) if anyone were to get into the building, they'd need the key from him first, B) people often called before coming up to get said key or at least to confirm that someone was home, but the phone had definitely not rung, and C) they pretty much never got any visitors. Everyone else who normally accessed the loft had a key. Mark shrugged and answered the door.

"Muf- Alison?" She looked distraught. Also, her voice was shaky and her eyes were red.

"Hi, it's Mark, right?" They had met a few times before, but never really spoken much.

"Benny's not-"

"I know," she cut him off, "I'm looking for Mimi."

"I can assure you that he hasn't seen her i-"

"I know," she cut him off again, "Just tell me, do know where I can find her?"

Mark answered cautiously, not wanting to give Alison means of finding his friend, but not wanting to be rude. It would be hard not to give away that she lived in the loft. "She's at work right now. What business do have with her, anyway?"

Alison started sobbing. Great going, idiot Mark chastised himself silently, though he had no clue how he'd caused her tears. He reached out to pull her into the flat from the doorway. "Please, don't cry. Whatever it is, I'm sure it'll be alright. There, there." He was just observing to himself how being withdrawn had left him with lackluster social skills, when he realized that Benny might be dead, in which case it would not be alright. Fuck! What was he supposed to do?

Alison instinctively reached out and started crying on his shoulder. This left Mark even more confused. "Come here. Sit down." He led her to what they called a couch, "Maybe talking about it will help. I'm a great listener." More than anything, it was because he was a terrible talker.

She sat down next to him, catching her breath, and straightening up. She managed to shake her head and nod at the same time. After a few deep breaths she was ready. "It's Benny," she sighed, "I caught him cheating. Again." A dry laugh broke up her last word, a bit. She didn't know why she was opening up to this Mark guy, but for some reason he just felt trustworthy. Or maybe she just didn't have anyone truly trustworthy in her life, so she projected the quality onto this relative stranger.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. I know what that feels like. Well, I wasn't married, but I did really love her- way too much- so I can imagine." That made Alison perk up. She wasn't alone in her misery. "Let me get you some water and tissues, okay? From experience, this might be a long one." Alison just nodded as he stood and walked off. She was starting to calm down. If she had to open up about something utterly humiliating, at least she was doing it to someone who had been there before. Maybe she knew that. Maybe that's why he seemed so trustworthy.

He returned with a glass of water for each of them, a box of tissues and a blanket. "If I had chocolate, I'd offer it to you, too. But alas, we have none of that divine comfort food." Mark was trying to pull off some sort of joke with his hyperbole. Despite his lack of any sort of skill at comedy, Alison laughed.

"Don't worry, I'll have more than my share before the day is through."

They talked and talked. Mostly, actually, about other things. They touched a little on Maureen and Benny's infidelities, but mainly their conversation was a diversion from the unpleasantness of the day.

Four glasses of water, and a quarter of a tissue box later, it was getting late. Alison was getting hungry, and Mark would have gotten hungry if it weren't for the fact that he already had been. "Are there any good places to eat around here?" Mark mentioned the Life Cafe as it was the closest and first that came to his mind. "Great, I'm starving."

* * *

The two laughed over dinner about pretty much anything. In some ways they very little in common, but in others, they may as well have been the same person. Mark found it strange. He never knew he could get along with someone with her background. But it wasn't like she chose her upbringing.

They were done with the actual meal, but when Alison saw Double Chocolate Fudge Cake on the menu, she had to order it for dessert. Mark was, she told him, obligated to help her with it, for the sake of her thighs. He wasn't about to object. While they waited for the sugary confection to arrive, they continued their conversation. Eventually, Mark had to ask the question that had been nagging at the back of his mind for hours by then. "I'm sorry if you mind my asking, but why were you looking for Mimi? I mean you said you knew it wasn't her he was with."

Alison cradled her forehead in her hand and gave a dry laugh, shaking her head. "Now that I'm a little more level-headed, I can see how stupid it is. I was hoping that maybe she could help me win him back. I mean she knew how to seduce him. I had decided I needed to change for him."

"Oy. Well, I'm glad you've come to your senses. It's always so hard to come to grips with, but it's never your fault. Though I suppose he could make a case if you were cheating on him and/or doing something vindictive like withholding sex as a punishment."

"I almost wish! He hardly ever touches me anymore." she sighed, then turned scarlet when she realized what she had just said. Yes, he seemed trustworthy, but they had only known each other a few hours. And she wasn't sure she would admit that to her best friend.

Mark shook his head, "You deserve better." She nodded. "Have you tried couple's counseling?" In fact, they had. But neither had put much effort into it.

"Yeah, but I'm willing to try again. We just let it fall by they wayside, but if we go for it again, I'm going to take it seriously. I mean how can I expect him to work at it if I don't?"

"You do have a point. Maybe you should talk it over with him." The cake arrived, though and the previous conversation was quickly forgotten for talks of chocolate, comfort food, memories of mom's (or nanny's) homemade baked goods and all sorts of silliness.

When they were done, Alison paid the bill with a generous tip. She was feeling so much better. She was still very upset, of course, but part of her had been uplifted. Mark offered her coffee back at his place. But it was more out of loneliness than anything else. He hadn't seen much of Roger or Mimi lately, and he lived with them. Collins, Joanne and Maureen were even more distant. It was starting to get pretty cold outside, so they walked briskly back to the building. Without speaking, it quickly became a race. Once they got in the building, the race continued up the stairs, with them laughing.

They got to the loft. Alison won. She started making fun of Mark and he just looked at her pretending to be hurt. "I let you win, to be polite."

"And then how polite is it to reveal that to me?"

"You were making fun of me, that's not polite either," he said with a mock sad-face. Their eyes met. The next thing Mark knew, he had pinned her up against the door inside the loft, and was kissing her. That was quick. They moved slowly toward the bedroom, clothes coming off, one item at a time, in the process. Mark needed this. He hadn't had a date in three months, and it had been over six since he had last gotten laid. But when he felt her struggling to undo the button and zipper on his pants he froze. He pulled away. "Stop. We shouldn't do this. I can't do this to you."

"_To_ me? I want this just as much as you do. Which is a lot, going by how tight your pants are."

"You have no clue how much I want this." For a moment, he considered leaving it at that and picking up where he'd left off with her neck. He took a deep breath, "I'd be taking advantage of you. You're in a fragile state. Trust me, you'd only regret it." While she was humiliated, she knew he was right. As if reading her mind he told her, "It's my fault, not yours. Don't be embarrassed. So few women can resist my sexiness- you're showing incredible restraint now- I'm very impressed!" He tried to diffuse the situation with humor. She laughed, looking at his scrawny, pale body. It worked. "Hey, it wasn't that funny." She laughed even harder.

They picked up their respective clothes and got dressed. As Mark was putting his glasses back on, she said, "Well, I should leave now. Bye, Mark."

"Wait, are you going back home?"

"I think tonight I'll stay in a hotel." Right. She had the resources to do that.

"Good idea. Goodnight then." She waved and walked out the door.

Roger came home just moments later. "Who was that chick leaving our place?" Mark was thankful he didn't recognize her.

"Nobody." He decided he should keep the events of the day a secret. It seemed like the best course of action. For now, anyway.

"Well, 'Nobody' is kind of cute. Will we be seeing her again?"

"Probably not." _At least not as a woman with me._

"It didn't go well?"

"More like it went a little too well." Roger raised an eyebrow. He had no clue what Mark meant, but it was clear from his friend's expression that he wasn't getting any more explanation than that.


	2. Eating at the Life

Couple's counseling

A/N: This chapter is much more rushed and suckier than the last. Sorry. I have a rush of work coming in soon and I wanted to get this out before I just let this story be a one-shot. This will probably be the worst chapter in the story, it'll definitely get better after this.

* * *

It had been three months and couple's counseling was going well. They hadn't gotten to the root of Benny's infidelity or what could be done about it, but they were communicating much better. He had been keeping it in his pants since that last time she caught him, and, amazingly, he was happy. Apparently, telling your spouse what you want out of the relationship was the key to getting it. It wasn't perfect, by far. But life was definitely improving.

Alison had even lost a little weight without any conscious change in her diet or exercise habits. She had been depressed even before catching him cheating because of their crumbling relationship. Now that she was happier, she had more energy and generally did more stuff. She could stay on the treadmill that extra five minutes, which added up over the weeks. Also, she wasn't comfort eating as much. Fewer chocolate or potato chip binges. She was never that overweight, but she had gained some weight since they got married, and was happy to be able to fit into some of her old clothes (even if they were last season).

She had to admit, the big difference this time was her. Last time, she felt like she was infallible and Benny was the one with the problem. It was all about making him out to be the bad guy. No wonder he didn't want to put any effort into it. His cheating wasn't her fault, by any stretch of the imagination, but how could she expect him to work hard at the relationship and the root cause of the problem if she refused to? She wasn't perfect as far the marriage was concerned. She could be overly demanding, whiny and manipulative. She had to get used to being direct. She couldn't get mad at him for not doing something she didn't tell him to. No more guilt-trips, either. She couldn't just bring up a name like Mimi or Amber and use it to make him do what she wanted.

"Benny-Bear, what time is the car coming to pick us up for the benefit Friday?"

"Nine o'clock, why?"

"I'm getting waxed and I wanted to make sure my eyebrows won't be lobster pink anymore. It's fine, though. By nine, it should be fine, though. For some reason, I kept thinking it was six."

"Next Wednesday, we have that dinner at six. The dinner is with the Wilsons, whose son, Beckett, has cystic fibrosis. The benefit is for cystic fibrosis research. Easy mistake."

"Oh, right. Thanks, babe."

He walked over to where she was standing just outside her closet and kissed her. "Anytime."

That reminded Alison of the 'children' discussion. They had never come to a conclusion, but they definitely weren't stable enough for kids, yet. Maybe in the next year, they could figure something out. She couldn't imagine having a child like Beckett Wilson. They would definitely need to be in a better place before being able to care for a child with his needs, even if he did have two nannies. But things were improving. All they needed was time.

* * *

Two weeks later, while things were going well, emotionally, Benny wasn't feeling very well. He was pretty sure it was just the flu, he had a mild fever, headache, nausea, vomiting, sore muscles and a slight, but constant, pain on the right side of his abdomen. He insisted Alison stay away from him, and he slept in a guest room. He went to the doctor just to see if there was anything that could speed this along.

The doctor told him to just get rest and drink lots of fluids, but took a blood sample, anyway, just in case there was something else going on. After reducing his workload, though, Benny was already starting to feel better.

Benny was a little nervous. Doctor Goldberg had called, stating he had Benny's lab results in, but he wanted to speak to him in person. His appointment was in fifteen minutes and he sat in the waiting room. He hoped it was nothing terrible, but they didn't make you come in for that, did they? His name was called and he walked into the exam room.

"Mr. Coffin, I'm afraid you have Hepatitis B."

"I can't. I haven't slept with anyone but my wife in nearly four months. And I always use protection."

"The incubation period can last up to 180 days. The good news is it goes away on it's own usually. Just make sure to get rest, drink fluids and get a protein-rich diet. Also, as long as you have the virus, you can spread it, so don't engage in unprotected sex."

"If it's going to go away on it's own, why did I need to come in?"

"We recommend that all our patients who test positive for one STD get a full panel. We need your permission and more blood. I consider it vital, actually. Especially for a married man." Benny paused momentarily. He already wouldn't be able to have sex with his wife until this went away. She wouldn't like this. But if he had something else, he had to know, right? He took a deep breath.

"Sure. I'll have the whole panel." Doctor Goldberg studied Benny for a moment. His defense was that he hadn't cheated on his wife in nearly four months. Not a great defense. Then he answered "sure" to the panel. The doctor considered it imperative. If he had one STD, he could have others and he could spread them to his wife. Did he not get that?

* * *

"You have Hepatitis? Did you not think to get tested earlier?"

"I'm sorry, Honey." Benny had just told her his test results and that they wouldn't be having sex for a while.

"What if it was something permanent, like herpes? What if it was HIV? I can't believe you would sleep around, and then sleep with me without getting tested. What if I have HPV and get cancer?" she groaned, "I cannot believe how irresponsible you were!"

He was sleeping on the couch tonight. Maybe later, if all her STD tests came back negative, he could sleep in a guest room. But only after he demonstrated that he understood the gravity of the situation. Alison hated to parent him like that. But what choice did she have? Had he not gotten tested between seeing that Mimi girl, whom Alison knew was HIV positive and sleeping with her? How extraordinarily irresponsible. He was gambling with his life and hers, and any future children they might have.

Her entire STD panel had come back negative. Her pap smear was fine. That was good. Benny had also been trying hard to make it up to her. He now slept in one of the guest beds. Still this had put a huge strain on their relationship. The fact that they weren't having sex anymore didn't help this fact.

He still had HBV in his blood, and until it went away, they weren't sleeping together, but at least there was nothing else. He was upset at her reaction, too. She didn't let him sleep on a bed for a while. Wasn't that a little vindictive? He just knew she was going to use this as leverage for months, even years.

Unfortunately, for the next couple weeks, when they went to counseling, they were more concerned with who was right than what could be done about the problem. Not much could be done, anyway, other than to forgive. But Alison wanted it known that this wasn't acceptable. He couldn't do this again. Forgiving him too soon might make it seem trivial. If he did something like this again. She would seriously consider leaving him.

* * *

Alison had a craving for the double chocolate fudge cake she had had a few months earlier. She had tried similar desserts at other restaurants (though never more than a bite or two to stay on her diet), but nothing came close enough to the one at the Life Café to satisfy her. So, back down to the East Village it was. She dressed down for the occasion in her most casual clothes and wore huge sunglasses, hoping no one would recognize her. Then she drove the Range Rover.

She was actually surprised to see Mark there. He was sitting at a table with that guy (Roger was his name?) and Mimi. If they had been her usual friends, and she hadn't been eating alone, she would have said a quick 'hello'. But they weren't, so she just sat down at the table.

"Mark," Roger interrupted his friend, tapping him on the shoulder, "Is that Muffy?"

Mark looked up to see Alison, dressed rather slovenly for her. She was sitting alone, and looked rather lonely to Mark. "It's Alison, alright."

"I wonder what she'd doing here? Don't her people consider this place social suicide?"

"I don't know. She looks lonely. We should invite her over."

"What?" Mimi asked, "Are you crazy? We can't invite her over here."

"Why not?"

"Um, because she probably hates us," Roger told him.

"Yeah, her husband cheated on her with me." Roger looked a little upset at her bringing it up, but not much. It was over two years ago and she had been faithful since. "That doesn't exactly create amiable feelings toward a person."

"I think you guys underestimate her. She is a person, you know."

"Yeah, a spoilt, rich, snobby person," Roger criticized, "Trust me, man. She thinks we're dirt."

"I'm sure she doesn't. I'm going to invite her over. If she says no, what's the big deal?"

"Fine. Five bucks says you're coming back to the table alone." Roger pulled a five out of his wallet and put it on the table. Mark repeated the action.

"You're on." Mark walked over to Alison's table. "Hey, Alison?"

"Oh, hi Mark. How are you?"

"I'm fine. Um, Mimi, Roger and I were wondering if you wanted to come eat with us."

She studied him for a minute. Was he serious? "Are you sure they won't mind?" She was feeling lonely. Plus, the more people helped her eat that cake, the less guilty she had to feel.

"Of course not. Come on."

Very reluctantly she answered, "Okay." She grabbed her purse and her coat and followed Mark to their table.

"Hi guys."

"Hi, Alison. I'm Roger." He shook her hand.

"And you're Mimi, right?"

"Yes. Nice to meet you."

"That's a really cute top."

"Thanks, I altered myself. It didn't have the lace or the same trim."

Alison nodded. "The lace is my favorite part." Then the silence set in.

The meal was awkward at best. All parties tiptoed around not offending each other. They didn't even talk much. But when it came time for dessert, the self-inhibition dropped. They could all talk freely about how they shouldn't bee eating it, but it was too good to pass up and what they might be doing to work it off.

"Mark, I think you need the extra mass. Don't be too concerned with working it off," Alison joked. They all laughed. He was really skinny. Actually, Alison thought Mimi was the one who should be the least worried about working it off, but she wasn't sure if Mimi's weight was the result of illness so she decided it was best not to point it out.

This started a small barrage of jokes at Mark's expense, but he was used to this and able to laugh it off. His faults were often used as icebreakers.

Alison picked up the tab. Despite the obvious reasons it was better for her to pay, Roger, Mark and Mimi all objected, and at least offered to reimburse her for their share. "No. It's the least I can do. You guys saved me from eating alone." There were no more arguments.

They got up, and said goodbye at the door. "Wow, man. You were right about her," Roger told Mark, "Here's your five bucks."

Alison, who was still within earshot, paused. She wondered if some trick had just been played on her. They were going to laugh at the whole thing later. What a fool. She thought they would actually be nice to her. How could she think, for a minute, that they didn't hate her. It was probably all about getting a stupid free meal. Apparently Mark wasn't trustworthy, after all.

She walked over to them, quickly. "You know, I thought better of you Mark. You don't have to pretend to like me. If you want free food, fine." She stuffed a few twenties in Marks hand. "It was my fault for trusting you, in the first place." She walked off, fighting tears.

Mark gave a Roger a "great going, dumbass" look. He was a little insulted, actually. They had actually been doing much better lately. Roger had a band with a steady line of gigs, Mimi had a job as secretary (pretty much getting coffee for self-important bastards, but it was better than her previous job) and Mark worked at an independent film house and occasionally got a little money from selling footage here and there. They wouldn't do something like that, anyway. But he guessed she didn't have much to judge their characters on, and most of what she did have wasn't good.

He ran after her. "Wait, Alison." She very reluctantly stopped and he caught up to her. "You got us wrong. Roger made a bet that you wouldn't eat with us. It wasn't right for him to assume you would snub us, true. I apologize for that and his awful manners in discussing it in front of you. It had nothing to do with free food." He handed the money back to her.

She looked him in the eye. "Are you telling the truth?"

"Yes."

"So I just made a complete ass of myself?" She was possibly even more humiliated than she had been a few minutes ago.

"Yeah, but I've done worse. It wasn't a completely crazy conclusion to draw, I guess. Don't worry about it too much. I know they don't seem like the most welcoming people to you, but if you gave it time, I'm sure they'd warm up to you."

She sighed, "I can understand them, I guess. I wasn't the nicest person when I first met you guys, was I?" In fact she had treated them like dirt. She still treated homeless people on the street and most other low-income people like they were beneath her. As far as her upbringing was concerned, they were. Benny was able to pick himself up out of poverty, why couldn't other people? But she knew it was wrong.

"Don't dwell on it. I mean, we didn't like how you treated us, but we returned the favor. We're just as much to blame. I think if you ever did just want to hang out with us, they'd be okay with it. Not that you ever would."

"I don't know…" she said, "Don't rule it out." Actually, she had ruled it out. She wasn't just going to start hanging out in the East Village with poor people. She had plenty of friends that she had more in common with. But she didn't forget how Mark had helped her. Maybe she could return the favor someday, though hopefully under better circumstances.

They said goodnight and parted ways.


	3. Good morning

A/N: Thank you to all my reviewers. You are awesome. Please review this story, even if it's the worst piece o' crap fiction you've ever read.

* * *

Tensions were high at the Coffin residence. Alison and Benny still weren't sharing a bed and, as with any marriage, it was only making things worse.

Alison took Benny's coat and hung it up as he came in, in an attempt to extend the olive branch. As she hung up the coat, she felt something in the pocket. She reached in to find a carton of cigarettes. "What's this?" she continued before letting him answer, "I thought we quit together."

"I'm sorry, Alison. I did quit," he was trying to make excuses for himself. It seemed that he was always apologizing to her, "but these last few weeks have just been stressful."

"They've been stressful for me, too, but I didn't take up smoking again."

"Then you have more self-restraint than I do, I guess. Good for you."

"Duh. I'm not the one who cheated." This again, lovely. "By the way, did you book the room for the benefit, yet?"

Benny sighed. He had completely forgotten about it. "Not yet."

"Benny, I've asked you four times already. When are you going to do it? If you put it off any longer we won't be able to get it for the date we want!"

"Calm down. It's not a big deal. We don't even know if we're going to do it yet. We might not have enough time to organize the whole thing, remember?"

"We won't have enough time if you keep putting it off."

"Why do I have to do it anyway? I don't even like going to these things much less putting them on."

"Right. Heaven forbid me from asking you to do something to help me, even though you know the person in charge. You never do anything for me anymore. I spent the whole day running around doing errands for you and your stupid business. But the minute I want something, you don't have to do it because you don't want to."

"Oh don't act like you're always spending all your time serving me. You spend more time at the spa than you do in the house. You are the most self-serving self-righteous-

"Don't you dare finish that sentence!"

"Bitch I have ever known."

"So why did you marry me if you hate me so much?" She grabbed her purse and stormed out.

God, was she pissed off. She needed to get drunk. She needed to not feel like this. She needed her friend, Lilly. Alison needed to relax and cheer herself up, and Lilly was always the best one for that job. She had been divorced twice and was currently enjoying single life and alimony. No obligations. No real life. Just what the doctor ordered.

"Lils, are you free tonight?"

"Yeah, what's up, Allycat?"

"I need a night out of the house with no husband and no stupid responsibilities."

"You called the right girl. Take a cab to my place, you're not going to be driving home tonight." Just what Alison wanted to hear.

* * *

Alison wasn't as thin as Lilly, but she could still fit into some of her clothes, so she could at least dress for the occasion. It was still way too early to go out and drink so they stayed at Lilly's place watching stupid movies, eating ice cream and drinking various flavors of schnapps.

"He'll come to his senses tomorrow. He'll be begging you to come home. They always do."

"That's just the thing, I don't want him back tomorrow. It may be long time before I'm ready to take him back. It was like it was too far, you know?"

"You're not going to join my club, are you?"

"Get divorced? No. I don't think I could ever do that. I love him too much. I just need some time on my own."

"Ah. Right."

* * *

They started at a classy up-town bar at a hotel, but neither girl really felt like that was what they wanted. Too normal. They did that sort of thing all the time. Tonight they were getting totally smashed. They needed a dive. They weren't dressed for it, but whatever. They needed to go somewhere where they weren't going to see people they knew. No keeping up appearances tonight.

Three tries later, they ended up in the most gawd-awful looking bar Alison had ever seen. It was still in an area of town she'd willingly go, but it was definitely a nosedive from her usual standards. They sat at a little table towards the back of the room where they chatted and drank until they were plastered enough to get up and dance. This should be interesting.

They danced with each other for a while, then, Lilly got asked to dance by a hunky guy pulling off the hot-rocker look. Lucky girl. Alison danced with a couple random guys, but it felt wrong. She had left her ring at Lilly's place, but she was still married.

There was a karaoke stage in the next room. Alison decided to try it out. She had never done karaoke in public before, despite thinking she had a pretty good voice. It just wasn't classy. Pretty much everywhere she went, she was seen. Not to mention most of those places didn't do karaoke. Too pedestrian.

Oh lord, was the girl singing at the moment bad. She had never heard such an awful rendition of "Honey Bun". It was such an easy song! Then again, the girl was probably even more intoxicated than Alison was. She decided to take a look at the songbook, to see if there was anything worth completely humiliating herself over.

"Honey Bun" girl finished her song and a new bar patron got up to sing. He was nothing special, but not completely terrible. She decided to sing Madonna's "Cherish". In college, that hat had been one of her absolute favorite songs. She used to sing it much with her sorority sisters. She was confident in her abilities with that song, even though she hadn't tried in a while. It was perfect for her range, too.

She signed up. There were three more people before her. Okay. She was kind of glad Lilly wasn't in the room. She'd never let her live it down. Until then, she'd just listen. There was a stream of clichés preceding her: "You May be Right", which encouraged drunk driving; "I Will Survive"; and "Livin' on a Prayer". So uninspired. Not that "Cherish" was a whole lot better. She just hadn't heard it in a while.

She stepped up to the stage when her name was called. It wasn't until she started singing that she realized how ironic her song choice was. It was all about new love, and lasting forever. It was strange to sing "Cherish the thought of always having you here by my side," when she had temporarily left her husband.

Just as she was singing _I can't hide my need,"_ she saw someone familiar, _"for two hearts that bleed,"_ who was that? _"With burning love."_ Mark. Oh wow, he cleaned up nice. He was dressed smartly in a nice button-up grey shirt and tie, _"That's the way it's got to be."_ He seemed to notice the familiar voice. He looked up right at her. _"Romeo and Juliet, they never felt this way I bet,"_ she sang as she stared right back at him. He stood up and turned around and hugged some girl as she left. His ass looked good in those pants.

She finished the song and stepped down from the stage. Mark walked up to her. "Never expected to see you at a place like this." They found a free table near the stage. The place was pretty empty.

"I had to get out of the house and that whole 'being seen' scene." That was uncharacteristic of her.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, nothing a few Cosmos and Appletinis can't fix. Speaking of which, I'm headed ot the bar, want anything?" She waived a waitress over and ordered.

"I'm good for now," his speech was slightly slurred, though, "I have to get up and sing in a minute, anyway."

"Oh, will you be gracing our ears with?" She was not drunk enough right now, if she could manage that sentence. She needed that Cosmo.

"You'll see."

"So, what are you doing here and dressed so cute, at that?"

"I had a date."

"Had?"

"Well, I'm still here, alone, and I doubt I'll ever see her again. She pulled one of those 'have page you to give you an out' things. She was a bit too narcissistic, anyway. I wasn't about to go on second date with her."

"Glad you ditched her, then." He nodded.

Her drink arrived and she took it eagerly, handing the girl a twenty and telling her to keep the change. Not a minute later, Lilly found her.

"What are you doing here? And who's this?"

"I was just listening to the people sing. They can be pretty funny." Faker. Even just with Lilly she had to put on a façade. "This is Mark, an old acquaintance."

"Oh. Whatever. Just wanted to tell you I'm going to be leaving now," she handed Alison a spare key so she could get her ring and clothes back. "This is King. I know, that's his real name, says it right on his ID. Anyway, I'll call you tomorrow, okay?"

"Yeah, fine. Later."

"She sounds fun," Mark told Alison.

"She's the only reason I ended up here."

"Then I'll have to thank her, later," he said somewhat smoothly. Was he coming on to her? He was pretty trashed. Nah. Mark's too good for that. His name was called. "I've gotta go sing."

She watched him get up there, and saw his song on the screen facing the audience. A classic. "Can't Help Falling in Love" in the style of Elvis Presley.

"_Wise men say,"_ he sang, cheesing it up, _"only fools rush in."_ He was actually a pretty good singer. _"But I can't help,"_ he did a really good Elvis, too, _"Falling in love with you."_ At first he just sang to the audience. He was such a ham, people were laughing and cheering. Then, he started singing to her. He took the mic off the stand and realized it was cordless. He looked happy. Oh no.

He started singing, looking at her. When he sang, _"Like a river flows surely to the sea,"_ the second time, he started walking toward their table, staring directly at her. She crossed her hands one over the other to signal 'no'. This seemed only to motivate him more. He could totally embarrass her. Perfect.

At _"Take my hand,"_ he stuck out his hand and people started cheering and screaming louder. She gave into peer pressure and reluctantly took his hand and followed him back up to the stage. He was so dead. _"For I can't help falling in love with you."_ He was sure he was going to get slapped or punched or something along those lines. _"For I can't help falling in love with you,"_ he finished. Despite her humiliation, it was strangely romantic.

The people cheered. She swore she could make out "Kiss her". She knew he never would, so she hugged him to shut them up. A disappointed "awww," rang out. Fine, she'd give them what they wanted. She was just drunk enough for it to make sense, yet retain some ability. She kissed him.

Afterwards, you could have knocked him over with a feather. She led him by the hand down from the stage. "It was just for the stage," she told him unconvincingly, "I was totally faking it."

He admitted to himself that he had been kind of coming on to her earlier and during the song, but that was just a joke. He hoped she didn't get the wrong message from it. But he wouldn't mind another kiss like that. She was good. If that was faking it what would the real thing be like? No! He couldn't think like that. She was married! To his friend! Bad Mark.

"Calm down," she told him, looking at his somewhat panicked face. They sat down at the table. She ordered another Cosmo, a beer for him and little appetizer of garlic bread. Bread was good as it soaked up the alcohol that they were about to consume.

Apparently, the bread didn't soak up enough alcohol. Twenty minutes later they were making out. They ended up getting a hotel room, nearby. They were both deprived and they both needed it. Badly.

It was the best sex either of them had had in years.

She woke up at seven AM with a bitch of a hangover. Holy fucking crap. She was naked in a bed that wasn't hers with a man that wasn't her husband. She got up and got dressed. The motion of her getting out of bed woke Mark.

"Oh my God. We didn't…"

"I think we did."

"Oh God. I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have- what was I thinking?"

"Calm down," she told him, more because he was hurting her ears than anything else. "Look," she told him, "It's not your fault. It was a mistake. We were both pretty drunk. Let's just agree not to talk about this, okay?"

"Okay," he said slowly as he sat up and looked for his boxers from the bed. He was still too hung over to really process things. He knew he'd hate himself later, when he could think. But for now, he'd just forget. It never happened.


	4. Your Cheatin' Heart

Mark walked toward his apartment building coming back from the subway

A/N: This is the real chapter 4. I'm amazed the last one fooled anyone. I guess I write better at 3 am than I thought. Also, sorry this is taking so long. I probably shouldn't have written this yet. I have so work much to do. Well, here's to procrastination!

* * *

Mark walked toward his apartment building coming back from the subway. He felt positively disgusting. On the way, he saw little bits and pieces of his soul dissolving with what appeared to be a coming gentrification of the East Village. _There goes the neighborhood. Here come the debutants,_ he thought with a wry smile.

As he unlocked the door to the loft, hoping Roger and Mimi would still be sleeping. No such luck. "Ooh, I think Marky's home!" rang Mimi's voice, through the door.

He opened the door to the no doubt torture that was to come. Roger would want to know all the details and Mark would try as hard as he could to avoid them. Today was especially bad because he couldn't let Roger know just whom he was with. The way he saw it, through his hangover-tinted glasses, he had three options. First, he could tell the truth and cause years of consequences for both Alison and himself. Second, he could lie. He wasn't very morally opposed to lying. Actually he was sure it was the right thing to do in certain situations. Too bad he couldn't do it convincingly, especially if the one he was trying to lie to was Roger. Third, he could tell parts of the truth and leave out the big picture. Obviously, he'd have to go with telling parts of the truth. But that was not going to be easy.

"Things went well with Viviane, I take it?"

"No, actually. She pulled the having a friend page her, trick. I think the friend was running late."

"Oh. So why are just now coming in at," he checked the clock on their VCR (that's right, they had a real VCR, now), "Ten in the morning?"

"I met up with an old acquaintance."

Apparently this was juicy information as both Roger and Mimi perked up. "Oh, anyone we know?"

"Not someone you'd remember me dating." Not because she wasn't memorable, but because they never dated.

"You sure? Try me."

"Trust me, it's futile."

"Oh so your embarrassed. It was Marcy, wasn't it? She was so weird. It's not natural to like bugs that much." Mimi lost interest and left the room. She never met Marcy as she and Mark had dated six years earlier. Or was it seven? Anyway, she didn't sound interesting.

"It wasn't her," Mark answered, trying to sound like he was lying. If he could force a little blood into his cheeks, he'd have the deal sealed.

"It was. Oh man, I never expected to hear about her again."

In fact, Mark had seen Marcy a few weeks earlier, but found the meeting completely unremarkable. She wasn't into bugs, anymore, though. She was in medical school, and she had figured out what to do with her hair. "She's not as weird as she used to be. She's given up the whole 'bug' thing." Marcy also happened to be married, now, but that was not relevant to the discussion as he had not actually slept with her.

"So you admit it. You know what, bro? You can spare me the details this time." Phew. Boy, did Mark luck out on this one. He still felt like he should clarify that he didn't sleep with Marcy.

"I never said I slept with her. Two people can stay up talking, then fall asleep on a couch without having sex, you know." All of that was true. Sleeping at the same time as, in the same room as, and even in the same bed/space as another person did not equate sexual intercourse. Too bad it wasn't what actually happened with Mark the night before. Oh what he wouldn't give for that to be what happened.

"Right, buddy. You keep telling yourself that. I know I'd be in denial if I slept with Marcy, too."

"Whatever. I give up." _Thank you for making it so easy, Roger._ "After I drink this water, he said walking to the sink area and getting a cup, "and take some aspirin, I'm taking a nap. You disturb me, you're dead."

"Gotcha."

Mark's head pounded when he dropped the glass of water, into the sink. There should be laws against glassware that loud. He picked up the glass and refilled it. Ah, water. Sweet, sweet water. And aspirin: Mark's proof of an existing God.

Eventually, he lumbered sleepily to his room, already halfway into nap mode. His head still pounded and he massaged his temples as he climbed into bed. He rarely had hangovers this bad, and he didn't think he drank quite enough to justify it. Maybe it wasn't just the hangover that made his head hurt so much.

* * *

Alison paid the bill for the room and caught a cab to Lilly's place. Lilly wasn't back home, yet. Phew. She grabbed her clothes and stuff and headed out the door. She hailed another cab and went home. _Please_ she prayed to no one in particular _let this go smoothly._

She walked in the door. Benny had fallen asleep in the foyer, waiting up for her. Now she felt even guiltier. He really was trying to be a good husband. She hoped she wouldn't wake him as she walked past. No such luck.

"Ali, honey. You're home! I just want to say I'm so sorry about last night. It wasn't okay for me to say that. I promise-" Alison cut him off.

"It's okay, babe. I forgive you."

"You forgive me? Just like that? You're not joking are you?"

"No, Hon. I really forgive you. But I need a nap now as I stayed up all night drinking with Lilly. Can you let me through?"

"Wait, are you just saying you forgive me to not have to talk about it now? Remember what Dr. Goldstein told us about that."

"I know. I really do forgive you. We can talk about it more later, but I won't forgive you if you don't let me sleep right now, okay?"

"Okay, baby." They shared a quick kiss before she fell into bed.

Benny was elated. She had forgiven him. He said some pretty awful things, and he didn't mean them at all. He was just on edge. But she forgave him! Hmm. Something about the situation reminded him of something else, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. Oh, right, it was his parents. Oh, shit! It was parents!

Benny's father had never raised a hand to his mother, as far as he knew, but he was still abusive. He'd call all sorts of awful things, fight with her all the time and cheat on her, then blame it all on her. And she just took it. She forgave him every single time. He hated it. They'd argue all the fucking time and his mother acted like it was not problem. Benny was actually happy when his father left them. As far as his eleven year-old self was concerned they were better off without him. He did have the courtesy to send child support, so what did they need him for?

Benny looked at his hands momentarily, then closed his eyes and shook his head. He had just done the one thing he promised he never would. He had turned into his father. Fuck.

* * *

When Alison woke up she still had a headache, but she took some advil and tyelenol, and 32 oz. of water.

Once she was feeling better, she returned to the living room to talk to her husband. "Benjamin, darling, I'm read to talk, now."

"Oh, good. I even though you forgive me, I just wanted to tell you how truly sorry I am. It was all my fault. I called about reserving the room. We've got it."

"Wonderful. Thank you so, much!" she said just before kissing him. Ugh, she felt dirty, though. She'd taken a shower and brushed her teeth, but she still felt like she was tainting him. "It's not all your fault. I don't give you enough credit. Sorry."

"No it's not your fault. It's not anyone's fault at all, per se. We just need to work on communication, both of us, equally. Also, I think once we end our little dry spell, things will be much more relaxed."

"You're right. You know what? I think we should get tested one last time, today. If all turns out fine, I think we should start sleeping together again."

"Why do we have to get tested again? The HBV is probably gone, by now." Benny took the suggestion as another attack about his previous infidelities. "This is just to make me feel bad, right?"

Alison was really just covering her ass, really. She couldn't get so mad at him for sleeping around and not getting tested, then turn around and do the same thing. "What? No, Honey. I just wanted to make sure." Then again, she and Mark had used a condom and if she had something minor then gave it to him, there wouldn't necessarily be a way of tracing it to her, could there? No! If Mark had something serious, she couldn't just sleep with her husband without getting checked out first. If her infidelity had to come out because she had something that he didn't, then so be it. "I'm doing it, too. I'm not just trying to cause you unnecessary pain. I thought if we both did it, instead of just you, it could really be something we did together, you know?"

"Oh, yeah. Needles and blood tests. I think that was on the top of that list of fun things to do together that Dr. Goldstein gave us. It is the little things, after all."

The face she made let him know that she did not appreciate his sarcasm. "We promised to be there for each other in sickness and in health. I've been breaking that promise, lately. If you have to go through the pain, so do I. I know you'd rather just forego the test but I just can't sleep with you until we do. It feels unsafe." It felt unsafe, of course, because she was the one making it unsafe. Not him.

"I understand," he conceded. She wasn't trying to get at him. She just needed this to feel safe. He hoped that she would always feel safe with him. It was a small sacrifice to make to guarantee that. "You know," he started, remembering his earlier sentiments about turning into his father, "I think I may schedule some private sessions with Dr. Goldstein, okay?"

"Of course. I think it's a great idea, actually. You know, I think I'll do the same." Benny hoped and prayed it was not because she wanted out.

* * *

Over the next couple of weeks, Alison felt awful. She felt so bad about sleeping with Mark. Maybe she should just tell him. He had never told her when she cheated, and she hated finding out through other people, or catching them. Mark had promised to keep quiet about it. But what if he didn't and Benny found out?

She couldn't sleep! It was starting to drive her nuts. It's hard to keep the new, calm and clear communication going when she was so tired all the time. Not to mention she was keeping probably the biggest secret of her life. No, she could do this. Actually, as the days went on, and Benny didn't seem to suspect anything, she calmed down more.

Every once in a while, though, the way she answered a question, or kissed him or even just cuddled told him that she was keeping something from him. He was so worried he was going to lose her. There were other times, when she said something that Benny thought was a backhanded way of digging up the past and trying to use his infidelity as leverage. She made a point of making sure he knew she forgave him. But why bring it up so much, if she had really let it go?

His first solo session with the counselor actually went very well. He talked a lot about his father. What he said, what he did and how much of it was reflected in Benny's own life. It wasn't just how he treated Alison. There were traces of his father in how he handled his business and even when dealing with friends.

Alison did not end up talking much about her night with Mark. She, too ended up ranting about Mommy and Daddy. Her father still treated her like a child. Her mother, while she loved Alison in her way, treated her like a piece of property she had bought just to show off to the neighbors. Alison had to keep up appearances. Looking happy was more important than being happy. Both of her parents had cheated on each other and resented the other for it. There was always that frosty distance. They didn't even sleep in the same bedroom anymore. The only reason they didn't get divorced was because it didn't look good. Alison, never having been exposed to much else, was much like her parents in the beginning. She was more upset at the fact that other people knew that Benny had cheated than she was at him for cheating. But she had changed a lot since, then. She was, according to her, more human now. Not that she was a shining example of depth or intelligence, or of anything, really. She just knew she was better than her parents.

Unfortunately, neither half of the couple was satisfied. Benny was still worried Alison was secretly unhappy, and she was still worried he'd find out. It seemed the more each person tried to make up for their shortcomings, the more they pushed the other away.


	5. Friends?

A/N: Sorry for the long wait. I have no excuses. That's not true- I've had school, work, family drama, grief and traveling outside of the country. But the biggest factor has been my old friend, writer's block. I hope somebody still wants to read this.

* * *

Mark had worked hard for months—years if you count all the time spent getting stock footage that he ended up using—on this latest project. It was a documentary on some of the many rituals practiced in the City concerning death and mourning and what we can all learn from them. It was inspired by the fact that in the two years before he started it, he had been to seven funerals, all of young friends or close family members. That much will certainly put death on a person's mind for a while. It would also drag most people down, and Mark was prone depression. This was why he was surprised that it actually inspired him, and that, despite being upset at each death, he did not feel successively more morose with funeral he attended.

For some cultures, he had a lot of trouble finding people willing to talk on film about it, due to various customs and superstitions. For others, he was awash in volunteers and footage. He even had on camera one person talking about how nice it was to be able to talk about it, as none of their friends wanted to. He had to admit, he found the whole project cathartic. He had footage of funerals, processions, interviews with family and friends of some of the deceased, interviews with funeral home workers and clergy, and interviews with doctors on both their own personal beliefs, how they feel when their patients die and of some of the people before they died.

Amazingly, it had an uplifting message, which people seemed to enjoy. In talking pretty much solely about death, it managed to celebrate diversity and life. Yes, death sucks, but as Mark saw it, it's something everyone goes through on both ends (as the mourner and as the deceased) and the best we can do is remember the good times and help each other through the bad ones, and try to enjoy ourselves as much as we can while we can. It doesn't hurt to think positively. He ran into a mother mourning the loss of a child with special needs. The kid was the mother's whole life, as she required 'round the clock medical care, and of course the mother was devastated; but she was also thankful that she got to know such a wonderful and beautiful child so well. "I thank God every day," she told him and the camera, "that I got to be Maddie's mom. That I got such a gift, such an amazing child, even if was only for twelve years." He figured this was something everyone could learn from. It seemed that others agreed.

"On Death in New York" actually garnered some positive attention by critics. In fact he had won a few film festival awards, and was receiving more attention every week. In fact, someone wanted to write an article about him for some pretentious avant-garde arts magazine. He was one of their new "filmmakers to watch", apparently. In just a few months, he went from nobody, to sort of somebody.

Mark was very happy for many reasons. First, he had a message, and it was being heard. People were actually watching and taking something from his film (he got quite a few letters stating just that). Secondly, he was able to fully support himself on just his art for the first time in his life. Also, he got to go to all sorts of cool new events meet new people.

He was invited to a gallery opening as he had gotten to know the artist recently. He wasn't whether it was just out of friendship, his new friend wanted him to have the networking opportunities or she just thought it would look good to have Mark at her gallery opening. Probably the first. He wasn't about to refuse the invitation, no matter why he received it. He wanted to be there to support a fellow just-starting-to-really-make-it artist.

* * *

Alison was still going a little crazy. She couldn't get the thought out of her head that if she slept with someone and got away with it, did Benny do the same thing? Could he still be cheating? He had done it before, so it wasn't a completely preposterous idea. She knew it was unlikely, though. They were getting along so much better, the counseling really seemed to be helping. Still, she couldn't help seeing little things, it was almost like her subconscious mind was actively searching for evidence that her husband had been unfaithful. He had to stay late some nights, he was too tired for intimacy pretty often, it seemed, he seemed just a little distant in a kiss, she could swear sometimes that she could smell a faint perfume on him that wasn't hers and he just seemed to act a little…off sometimes. It may have been in reaction to her acting strangely, sometimes, or he may have been acting strangely for the same reason she was.

She had some gallery opening to go to. Benny was going to come with, but he had to work late, so she went alone. She didn't want to get too dressed up, as she didn't want to draw too much attention. It would have been nice if he had given her enough notice to find a friend to drag along. So not only was she going without her husband, who had cheated on her in the past (and people would surely assume things about that, tonight), she was going alone, which added to the embarrassment factor. Oh well. It wasn't enough of a deterrent to stop her from going. It was just one of those events she couldn't miss, as it would knock her social standing down a peg.

She was talking to a well-known art collector and fellow trust-fund baby who was studying a new subject every time Alison saw her (this year it was the Pirahã, an obscure tribe of people in the Amazon). Nothing truly noteworthy. After a little while said trust-fund baby left and was replaced with another artist of some sort who introduced them to a somewhat obscure, avant-garde filmmaker. Alison was actually surprised when she saw Mark. She shook his hand politely noting, again, how well he cleaned up. Though, he could still use some help if he was going to hang out with this crowd more.

The four conversed inanely for a while, all the while Mark and Alison tried to avoid eye contact and act as if this was not awkward at all. In fact, according to the others, the two had never even met. After a while, though, it was just a little too much for her and Alison pulled him aside to speak to him alone. Mark momentarily gave her a panic-stricken look that seemed to ask her, "Is this really a good idea?"

"I think we need to talk."

"What are you talking about?" Mark was good at following directions.

"Not so much about that," she told him obviously referring to the thing she had forbade him from speaking about. "I mean, well we couldn't just sit there and pretend it didn't happen."

"Okay. So we are talking about that. What is there that even needs to be said?"

This was not going how she had planned it. "It's not about that, but in spite of it. You're going to think I'm nuts, but I think we should still be friends."

"You're right. You're crazy."

"Look," she said trying to explain it as best she could, though she might have had one too many glasses of champagne. "You and I get along so well. Why throw that away over a silly little mistake?"

"Maybe because," he paused, "This really isn't the best place to talk about it." This was true. Alison told him to meet her at a specific coffee house nearby. Until then, they wouldn't speak to each other for the rest of the event, and they would leave at different times, lest someone assume something. Especially considering she was not here with her husband.

Alison was still paranoid about someone finding out, apparently; which made Mark wonder all the more why she wanted to keep in contact with him. Then again, what did he have to lose? She was the one putting something on the line, here, and yet she was the one who insisted. He did have to wonder why he was so special. He always had to dissect this sort of thing. Why was he worth it? Unless he was just reading far too much into it, and she was going on the assumption that the fact that they had slept with each other would have no bearing on their interactions once they got past this one little bump. Or maybe, now that he was making a name for himself, he might be a worthy social pawn for her. But she didn't seem that conniving.

* * *

Mark sat down opposite Alison at the café about twenty minutes after she had gotten there. He still wasn't exactly sure why he was doing this, but he reminded himself that he could always say 'no' if he didn't like what she proposed. She a waiter came by and she ordered chai lattes for the both of them. Mark loved chai lattes.

"Shall we continue where we left off?" Mark asked her.

"Sure. I believe you were telling me why we should never talk to each other again."

"Right. Because the events of 'that night' could never have any bearing on a friendship?" he asked sarcastically.

"So you've never been friends with a girl you slept with after you slept with her? I never took you for that type, Mark."

"Of course I've remained friends after sleeping with girls. None of them were married, though."

"Okay, we slept together. Acknowledge it and get over it. It won't happen again. I think our friendship worth too much to throw away over something so trivial. I mean it was one night, we were both drunk, and it's not like my husband hasn't done the same who knows how many times."

"I'm sorry, but my days of being 'secret friends with' people ended in Middle School. Don't lie; you can't be seen with me. That's why we had to meet here, and arrive at different times."

She laughed, a little. "You got it all wrong. Our friendship doesn't have to be a secret. It'll just look like I'm your supporter. The artist with the wealthy benefactress, it's not too uncommon. I can help you navigate all this stuff," she said indicating to her dress and his suit, in reference to all the social aspects of being a successful artist, especially where interaction with wealthy snobs was concerned. "You make me look like an appreciator of the arts and a philanthropist. Underneath it all, though, we can just spend time hanging out together and, you know, being friends."

"So you're saying, on the surface it'll look like we're friends and your helping me with all this, but underneath it all we'll be friends and you'll help me out with all this?"

"Yes."

Mark was a little confused, and would surely spend a lot of time trying to figure out the social workings of the upper class some other day, just not today. "Okay," he shrugged, "sounds fine to me." He still didn't quite understand why it was worth putting her marriage on the line, but he guessed that it just wasn't that much of a gamble. It would look perfectly innocent. And it would **be **perfectly innocent, too. They wouldn't have to hide anything they did from now on.

* * *

Uh, yeah, so there it is. I hope you all enjoyed it, or something. Hint: The next chapter may come faster if I get some reviews (positive or negative- constructive criticism is always welcome and makes writing easier).


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